All this week the student veterans' club at the college where I work has been holding a food drive for the families of soldiers serving in Iraq. They've been asking us to bring items like tuna, canned soups, pasta and beans, things that can be used as the main dishes at dinnertime.
I admit I've sometimes been irritated by the way in which military service in Iraq has been elevated to near sainthood by certain facets of the media, and how the slogan "Support our Troops" has been used as an attempt to pillory those us who oppose the war. As Noam Chomsky has pointed out, who can be against "our troops?" Though you would think that the ultimate way to support U.S. soldiers right now is to continue pressuring American politicians to end the war and get them all out of Iraq.
But walking by their flag-draped table today had me thinking: is there not something wrong with the fact we have to have a food drive for the spouses and children of American soldiers in active service? Shouldn't they be receiving at least enough money to feed themselves?
One of the counselors in my department was also watching the vets' club table, and he remarked that the B-2 bomber that crashed in Guam last weekend cost $1.2 billion to build.
"That is just shameful," he said, nodding at the table. "Can you imagine how many families you could buy groceries for with $1 billion ?"
On The Story last night on National Public Radio they featured another vet from Iraq, a guy who was in the Kentucky National Guard, who had come home to discover his family and house on the brink on foreclosure. He tried calling the bank, begging them (it?) to lower the monthly payment on his ARM mortgage or at least give him a month's break, and the customer service department got nasty with him, even after he told them he had just returned from Iraq. The vet and his family eventually lost their house and had to move into a mobile home that wasn't even big enough to hold his entire family. They had to farm out the older kids to relatives.
I've tried Googling the salary of the average U.S. soldier engaged in active service in Iraq, but amounts vary wildly. One article says it's $7.50 a day or $225 a month. (Iraqi soldiers receive $70 a month, which even by standards out there is not a generous sum.) In comparison Blackwater employees in Baghdad were receiving upwards of $20,000 a month.
Whatever one's feelings are towards the war, it's hard not to feel outraged about this.
(For the record: I brought spaghetti.)
In response to Sheri's post re another Ralph Nader third-party run for the White House, I recalled reading back in '04 during the Kerry vs. Bush campaign a Grist interview with Andy Kerr, an environmental activist and writer from Oregon. Kerr had some sharp observations about why voting for Nader was a waste of time and electoral power for Greenies, and I thought they bore repeating now.
Ralph: sometimes working with the status quo isn't necessarily selling out. It's occasionally called being a team player.
Andy Kerr, National Public Lands Grazing Campaign
A rabble-rousing conservationist answers readers' questions
We all know that logging and grazing are not inherently destructive
practices. Do you work for, or know of, groups that are actively trying
to remake the way grazing and logging are done on our federal lands, as
opposed to merely campaigning against them altogether? -- John Hintz,
Lexington, Ky.
director of the National Public Lands Grazing Campaign.
We all don't know that, John. One cannot have a real forest and log it
too. Public lands, by definition, have other values associated with
them than the production of fiber or forage. Public lands, by history,
are the least productive and cannot be profitably managed for timber
and grass consumption over the long term. Public lands should provide
goods and services that the private sector is unwilling or unable to
provide. Public-lands logging and grazing, however carefully done,
cannot serve as a model for such activities on private lands. The more
one tries to manage for wildlife, water quality, and such, the less
forage and timber can be had. Private lands are also subject to the
pressures of the market to maximize profit. Public lands provide merely
2 percent of the livestock feed in the U.S., an amount easily made up
on more productive private lands. Enough urban wood is thrown away in
landfills each year to equal the lumber we get from our national
forests.
What do you think of the Quivira Coalition's "radical center" approach
to improving the health of western rangelands? -- George Schroeder,
Albuquerque, N.M.
I've never understood the belief that if one is at the center of the
spectrum on an issue, one is in the correct place to do the most good.
Centers move because the edges change. Slavery used to be a
middle-of-the-road kind of thing. Civil unions are becoming mainstream.
One should base their philosophy on an analysis of what is morally,
ethically, and/or logically correct, not what is in the middle. When
standing in the middle of the road, the probability of getting hit by
an oncoming vehicle is doubled.
When you buy out a rancher's grazing rights and they wish to continue
ranching, do you input information on land-friendly ranching done in
some places of the Southwest? -- Jerry Broadbent, Bucoda, Wash.
Ranchers don't have a right to graze public lands; it is a privilege
that is revocable. Ranching, however conducted, is not land friendly if
one's definition of land includes water and wildlife. Some forms of
ranching are less harmful than others. But any forage going through
domestic livestock is not available for native wildlife. Agricultural
operations take huge amounts of water out of streams. The operations of
which you speak are not profitable and therefore not sustainable.
Rather, such ranching is propped up by individuals with enough wealth
to reconcile, at least in their own minds (and, unfortunately, much of
the public's), their environmental consciousness with their desire to
wear the big buckle and the big hat.
What do you think of the controversy over trying to address issues
(Nader) versus winning the presidency (Kerry)? -- Lesley Stansfield,
San Francisco, Calif.
Unfortunately, we presently have 50 winner-take-all elections, which
favor two parties and generally result in a choice between lesser
evils. I don't like it, but it is a fact. Until that fact is changed, a
vote for Nader is a vote for Bush. In 2000, many of my friends told me
there was no difference between the two and that they were going to
vote for Nader. As the Florida count first seesawed and then whipsawed
between Bush and Gore, many of them expressed their hopes (Gore) and
fears (Bush) as to the outcome. I gave them no quarter and noted that
if there were truly no difference among the two candidates, they should
be ambivalent on the matter. They were not.
If W. is elected in November for four more years of rollbacks and
destruction, will environmentalists react with despair and give it up?
Doesn't it seem like our backs are to the wall now? -- Earl James,
Santa Fe, N.M.
In my experience, this Bush is the worst president we have ever had.
However, I think this nation is stronger than the fools it sometimes
elects, or in this case, someone the Supreme Court selected. A feature
(either a strength or a weakness, depending on how you view it) of this
democracy is that incremental change does happen. Leon Trotsky felt
that when things get bad enough a revolution will occur. In our system
we've institutionalized incremental change, albeit far from perfectly.
Our problems are not so much that environmentalists are disunited, but
that the nation is. We are a closely divided nation politically. Who
wins or who loses depends mostly on who shows up to vote.
Have you done any work promoting battery electric vehicles and
pluggable hybrid vehicles to help with the problem of global
warming? -- Stephen Gloor, Perth, Australia
I wrote an article [PDF] for Home Power
on the Prius. Unfortunately, at least in the U.S., hybrid electric
vehicles (HEVs) are marketed as vehicles you don't have to plug in. In
the short term it makes sense. In the longer term, we need HEVs that
have a larger battery and can be plugged into house current. Most car
trips are only a few miles and most car pollution happens when the
gasoline engine is cold. A larger battery would keep the gasoline
engine off longer.
Do you think that whole easily parodied brouhaha over the spotted owl
ultimately advanced or hurt the environmental movement? -- Trent
Loosche, Tulsa, Okla.
The only way to ensure one will never be ridiculed is never to try.
Comparable parody has been a part of most battles worth fighting, such
as equal rights for women. One should pick a battle not because it is
easy, but because it is important. Battles can sometimes be chosen, but
rarely are causes. I'm not sure we had the power to pick -- or not pick
-- this battle. I suppose we could have decided that old-growth forests
weren't worth the public-relations cost. But they were. My brain is
divided into the ecological half and the political half. Politically,
we won this battle, in spite of the short-term public-relations costs.
Today, at least two-thirds of Oregonians don't want any more old-growth
forest logging, and the timber cut is about 90 percent less than it
was. However, the ecological half of my brain tells me that the
unprecedented political victory may not be enough. We should have
started earlier.
Can you point me to any uncensored, straight-between-the-eyes resources
on lobbying and the legislative process? What would it take to get the
federal government on track to sustainable, responsible policies and
legislation? -- Zac Helmberger, Tres Piedras, N.M.
It has been repeated many times, but there are two things most people
shouldn't see made: sausage and law. There is no cookbook template for
lobbying. There are books on the subject that can be of some help.
Lobbying for an oil company that can direct large political
contributions is far different from lobbying for a public-interest
organization.
How can we generate interest in neoclassical economics in the environmental community? -- Steve Hopkins, Washington, D.C.
It's not so much a matter of trying to interest conservationists in
neoclassical economics as having them understand that the probability
of their winning is increased by understanding modern economics -- if
only to be able to defeat it, or exploit it to the advantage of nature.
I wonder why some people who love the earth and know so much science
can be so stupid about the overpopulation crisis. -- Alea Orr,
Manistee, Mich.
The capacity of the human mind to simultaneously hold incompatible and
irreconcilable beliefs has always astounded me. I know several
hardworking, strongly committed conservationists who have more than two
children. How could Thomas Jefferson be so eloquent for human rights
and also own slaves? Some people ignore the population crisis because
they feel it is insoluble, or at least they themselves can do nothing
to solve it. Living lives of total consistency would be quite painful.
What do you see as an effective way to make a difference, or more
bluntly, do you have advice for someone who is passionate about the
environment but does not know where they fit in? -- Holly Ponczko,
Ingleside, Ill.
Saving the earth is not a career but a calling. As a college dropout,
I'm not particularly impressed with degrees. I am impressed with
passion, intelligence, and persistence. Work on what you care about in
ways that are comfortable to you. Check out my stock advice on getting a job in the conservation movement.
What has kept you motivated to keep working and fighting? -- Thalia Schlossberg, Bloomington, Ind.
The only thing that hurts more than losing is not trying. Ignorance can
be bliss, but only if one is ignorant. If one knows of a pressing
problem, one has no choice but to try. There is also no reason not to
have fun while trying. It's the only earth we have. As that great
environmentalist Calvin Coolidge said:Nothing in the world can take the place of persistence. Talent will not; nothing is more common than unsuccessful men with talent. Genius will not; unrewarded genius is almost a proverb. Education will not; the world is full of educated derelicts. Persistence and determination alone are omnipotent. The slogan: "Press on" has solved and always will solve the problems of the human race.
You crash your friend's car because you're driving too fast in bad weather. Everyone's okay, but the car has to go into the shop. Who pays the deductible?
This sounds like something you'd see on Yahoo Answers, which I have sworn off because they actually reward people whose answers are blatantly wrong.
Ethically, the driver should. More to the point, if you want to stay friends with the car's owner, you should.
But if you want your ex-friend to take you to small claims court, then don't pay. Karma will come get you later.
I forgot---probably with good reason---that February 19 was the 66th anniversary of Executive Order 9066, which decreed that all American residents of Japanese ancestry should report for internment into "camps" or "emergency holding centers" for the duration of World War II. My father along with his recently widowed mother, younger brother, and his older, married siblings and their families boarded a train in Sacramento and were eventually sent to an internment center in Jerome, Arkansas. He didn't talk about it for a long time, not until I was about 12. Since none of my teachers had mentioned the internment---this was in California and part of the state's history, which we were required to study in the fourth grade---I didn't believe him at first. A frustrating search through the 30 volumes of the Encyclopedia Britannica turned up a tiny blurb of about 6 sentences under the article "World War II," remarking upon the internment. I wasn't sure which was more disappointing: the lack of information, or the realization that my country actually put my maternal grandmother, whom I loved dearly, in a prison camp.
Strange but true story: my father was eventually drafted into the army, and with a group of other young Japanese American men was sent to the local train station in Jerome to report for boot camp in Texas. There they encountered two entrances, one labeled "Colored" and the other "White." My father and his buddies shrugged---racism had become old hat to them---and went into the colored section of the station, sat down on the broken benches, and waited for their train. Ten minutes later, the station master, an old white man, ran into the room and said, "You boys don't belong there!" and escorted them into the white section.
My father still laughs at that story. He thinks it's an example of how dumb Southerners were. Having read about Yuri Kochiyama, I see a different lesson in my father's experience.
This is old news---it actually happened on Valentine's Day and I was told about it the morning afterwards by my kid the Evergreen student.
He didn't attend the concert, not being a hip hop fan, but he was called after midnight by some friends and asked to come help people who had been hurt in the melee. He's training to become a "street medic," someone who administers first aid to participants in protests and demonstrations.
(Yes, I was worried. I always have mixed feelings about this---pride in his political and community engagement, fear that he will get hurt by either cops or rioters who are just out looking for blood.)
But I was intrigued by the police officer's analogy, if that's what she really said. It sounds a bit like some reporter's "paraphrasing," but given how underemployed English majors are these days, maybe the officer specialized in postwar British literature before going into law enforcement.
I've never heard of the group Dead Prez before this. I was told they're like NWA or Public Enemy, specializing in politically-themed rap and hip hop, and they chanted "F*** the Police" while the riot was going on, according to some accounts but which their manager denies.
I used to listen to Public Enemy but my students call them "old school" (I think I'm supposed to spell it "skool" but I'm a reflexive proper speller). I like protest-themed music but hate it when a concert goes violent. It just gives haters and right-wingers an excuse to call for bans or censorship of music, especially hip hop.
Officer at center of campus riot says mob had mind of its own
Sheriff's Deputy Jamie Gallagher walks past her patrol car that was destroyed during a riot at The Evergreen State College early Friday morning, Feb. 15, 2008. (AP Photo/Tony Overman, The Olympian)
You
By
KOMO Staff
Officer April Meyers was trying to arrest a man for investigation of misdemeanor assault early Friday morning during a 'Dead Prez' concert at Evergreen State College.
"Now there's probably 150 people there and they're spitting and yelling," Meyers said of the crowd that formed around her car, demanding that the man she'd arrested be let go.
"It seems like with every passing minute it had turned from aggressive concern and allegations to a mind of it's own -- the crowd mob characteristic. It was just out of control. "
She called for backup, bringing in state troopers and county sheriff's deputies to help.
"I took him out of the car, and uncuffed him, and I got a face full of pepper spray exactly after I uncuffed him," Meyers said.
That is when the now 500-strong crowd boiled over, Meyers said, toppling a patrol car and requiring a SWAT team to fire more pepper spray to get the situation under control.
On Tuesday, hundreds of students at staff at the college crowded a campus lecture hall for a "post-riot" forum.
"This instilled fear in people and this intimidated our officers, but also other students, and no one deserves to feel that way on our campus, no matter what. That's not okay," student Victor Sanders said to a round of applause.
College officials have instituted a moratorium on campus concerts and say they will cooperate fully with police investigations into the incident.
"We have no 100 percent understanding of what did occur, and we never will," said College President Thomas L. Purce. "But one thing I know, and we all have to know, is what resulted is not acceptable by any standard."
Pruce says he's glad no one was killed and pledged that the college will work to reimburse the sheriff's department for the patrol car that was destroyed.
Investigators, meanwhile, have their own were to do and were analyzing blood and saliva samples taken from the police car.
"We're proceeding to see if we can file specific charges against specific people for specific crimes," said Lt. Debbie Mealy.
Last weekend I took a practice test for the GRE (Graduate Requirement Examination) partly out of curiosity---a lot of graduate programs no longer require you to take it, though "it is advised"---and partly because I'm thinking of going for my PhD if my job hunt turns into a dead end. The GRE is a somewhat more advanced version of the old SAT, though I admit as one who not only has scored tests but has done very badly at them, I take a sour view of testing in general. A high score proves you test well. A low score shows that you didn't pay a thousand bucks to Kaplan or some other test prep company for their classes on how to cheat even though you really aren't.
(I will admit, test prep companies do arm their students with handy tips on how to score better than average on a test by figuring out how to fill out as many answers as you can in the hour or less they give you per section. If a particular question is taking too long to answer, skip it and go on to the next, and keep going until you've finished; then go back and use the extra time to figure out the ones that were giving you trouble. If you still can't figure them out, guess: you have a 1 in 4 chance of picking the right one anyway. Which is a test-busting skill with little relationship to what you actually do in a college class.)
But I got my practice scores back the other day. And I probably shouldn't be admitting this since I teach: but I did bad. Really bad.
My verbal score was decent: just over 600. I did great at sentence completion and reading comprehension. But I suck at analogies. For example:
EXCULPATE: BLAME:
(A) demean: average
(B) compromise: peril
(C) proliferate: abundance
(D) perturb: exasperation
(E) exonerate: guilt
So you're supposed to choose the pair of words that best parallel the relationship of the first pair. "Exculpate" means to be proven not guilty. So it must be the opposite of "blame," right?
I don't know. I honestly have no idea what this particular question has to do with actually reading As I Lay Dying and
But my math score was truly embarrassing: 399 out of a possible 800. That might get me a D in college algebra, if I ever bothered myself to take it.
The scoring was predictable in most parts---I don't know how to do algebra anymore; I can't figure out the area of a circle or tell you based on angle ABC whether a triangle is an isosceles or whatever---but I was surprised I did do well in one section, data interpretation. I can read a graph or chart and make a prediction based on the information shown. But if you read the business section of any newspaper or even stare at the graphics for television polls, that's no big deal.
But this flummoxed me:
Quantitative Comparisons do not require you to solve for a particular value; rather they ask you to compare two quantities and try to determine which, if either, is larger. Each quantitative comparison displays two mathematical expressions in boxes—one in Column A and one in Column B. Sometimes additional information is provided.
Column A Column B
a, b, and c are positive
integers and a = c/b
a c
Which is true:
- Column A is greater than Column B.
- Column B is greater than Column A.
- Both columns are equal.
- The relationship between the columns cannot be determined.
And the answer is…D
Why?
The centered information tells you that the result of dividing the positive integer c by the positive integer b is the positive integer a. That is, c is evenly divisible by a and b. Or, a and b are factors of c. You have variables; try picking numbers to narrow down your options.
Do I care? No. As someone in the education field I am not supposed to say stuff like this: but the most difficult math I've used since being forced to take statistics in college is to figure out percentages on my tax forms. I don't use algebra on a daily basis and it's unlikely I ever will.
I will grant that math can be used to stretch the mind and sharpen problem solving skills, but it's not taught that way in most schools. Kids who "get" math quickly are rewarded with the teacher's increased attention, while kids who don't are left behind quickly and without much sympathy. It's one of those subjects where practice and repetition are very important, but since public schools rarely have the time or money to review topics over and over again (and you don't want to discourage the bright kids who ought to be in an advanced placement class anyway) you keep moving on, and before long you have 10 percent of the class scoring in the 90s, another 20 percent doing middling well, and the rest straggling along in the C and D range with a couple of "hopeless" cases who will be held back or sent to remedial courses. For those stragglers---I was one of them---math is an agony, a chore, and you have no idea why you have to learn this stuff when it's obvious to everyone you're no good at it, and it's unlikely you are going to go into a major where you will ever use it.
I could go back and take some refresher courses at the community college, and it's likely that I'll do better now than when I was 12 years old. But I don't want to spend $400+ on a class I'm taking just to pass an entrance exam. And I wonder why we're still using these tests after countless studies have shown they don't actually predict how well students will do in college.
Oh well. I'd rather read Faulkner any day than try to learn how to multiply and divide radicals again.
One belief about the Chinese New Year is that whatever happens on that day foretells what the rest of the year will be like. That's why in traditional Chinese households massive steps are taken to make sure the day goes well: none of the women of the household are supposed to cook or clean that day, so they end up spending the week before cooking foods they can serve cold and cleaning the house from ceiling to floor. The Japanese don't observe the Lunar New Year, having switched to the Western calendar during the Meiji era, but my mother, grandmother and aunts all would go insane on New Year's Eve making sure the house was squeaky clean and they had boxes of bento prepared for the waves of guests who would stop by to wish the family a happy new year. God help you if you crossed their path on December 31: they would either put you to work chopping, washing or dusting, or you got screamed at: "If you're not going to help, then stay out of the house and stop tracking dirt inside!"
(I'd always check the bottom of my shoes. Hey, they're clean!)
But I don't clean, I usually go out to eat that day, and I still have to work, so I don't do anything exceptional for the Lunar New Year. But it got messed up anyway: the manager of my apartment building called me at work today and said that some time last night, a couple of stooges had broken into the storage room in the basement and smashed open the lockers with a sledgehammer. It didn't look like anything was actually missing, but the place was a mess---the jerks had turned boxes upside down and thrown things onto the floor. The manager wanted me to come as soon as possible and see if any of my stuff had been stolen so a police report could be filed.
I hadn't stored anything of value in the lockers, as I don't trust the other tenants in the building very much. Not so much because they're felonious, but they're thoughtless and irresponsible. There's a cart in the lobby of the building that's for tenants to use for moving or for hauling heavy parcels into their apartments, and every week it goes missing. People either don't return it---yeah they steal it---or they just don't bother to bring it back to the lobby. You'll eventually find it sitting in the basement next to the garbage bins or out in the parking lot across the street. Once someone used it to coast down the wheelchair ramp adjacent to the front door and crashed it into the street. I sometimes feel like I'm living with a bunch of high school kids: it's hard not to want to snarl at my fellow tenants, "Knock it off right now or I'll send you to the principal's office!"
(It wouldn't surprise me if another tenant had let the thieves into the building: the security door is often left ajar or people will buzz anyone in without even asking who it is.)
But still, my stuff is my stuff, even if it's not exactly worthy of a Swiss bank vault. I had in there Eliza's travel carrier, which she would have been glad to see gone; three picnic coolers (yes, three: they're great for not only keeping beverages and potato salad cold at barbeques, but carrying live goldfish, groceries, produce from farm stands and farmers' markets, and large amounts of party ice); a couple of boxes of old letters and cards, and Christmas decorations. The last were the only things in the locker that had any real value to me, because they were a mixture of craft projects made by my kids when they were little, genuinely expensive items---real gold and sterling silver ornaments---and sentimental memories: the teddy bear ornament I bought for my husband for our first Christmas together, the porcelain "Baby's First Christmas" ornament (I actually have 5, since people assume, sweetly, that no one else has given you one of those); the Star Trek Next Generation commemorative ornament featuring Data at his command module. (Please, no geek jokes. It's not mine and Captain Picard was my favorite Next Gen character.) They were also contained in this massive plastic bin that took up too much room in the bedroom closet, so I reluctantly retired it to the locker. The thought that a couple of oafs had thrown these onto a concrete floor made me teary with rage, and as soon as I could sneak out, I was barreling down the freeway back to the apartment.
The building manager took me down to the storage room, which was indeed a mess. The thieves had essentially gone down the aisle, smashing locks and rummaging through lockers. It was a little sad seeing people's personal belongings scattered like trash all over the floor---clothes, plush animals, dolls, art supplies, tax files, Christmas cards. I especially felt sorry for the guy whose porn collection was laid out for everyone to see. (He actually had a VHS tape of Deep Throat, which made me wonder if he was an older guy or just a young collector with vintage tastes.) The manager pointed to someone's huge outboard motor---I thought if I had a boat large enough to require a motor that big, I'd live in it---and said the thieves had apparently tried to carry it out, but it was too heavy, so they dropped it just halfway out of its locker. The building's security cameras had caught them leaving the basement, and they were empty-handed as far as the cops could tell. They were either fearfully inept, or were disappointed by the lack of swag in the storage room and fled in shame.
But after wading through the piles of sad and lost, I finally found my own locker. The hasp had been smashed off the door, but the lock itself, an armor-plated monstrosity given to me by the U-Haul dealer in Bismarck, North Dakota, was intact. But I was even more surprised when I looked inside: the thieves had opened a couple of shoeboxes containing some letters and greeting cards, but essentially had left everything else intact. They hadn't even bothered to open the bin with the Christmas ornaments inside. I wondered if it was because it had a huge label on the side, "Christmas decorations" (nothing of value here to you, dorkwad), or if they were so discouraged at that point they decided to call it a night. But the manager and I agreed that I had gotten off relatively unscathed, and we headed back to our apartments.
It still bothers me that it had to happen on the first day of the Chinese New Year though. I admit to being a little superstitious, but the other half of me argues that it may be a sign that bad things will attempt to happen to me, but they'll fall apart before they lay a scratch on me and mine.
But I think I will look for a protective amulet this year. A nice jade bat or something.
2008 is the Year of the Rat. Which animal year were you born in?
Not the most beautiful or graceful of animals, but I'll honor the Monkey as my animal avatar. In Asian mythology and literature the monkey is a god and a powerful but somewhat inept hero.
In India, Hanuman the monkey god represents strength, courage, selflessness and wisdom. In the Chinese epic novel Journey to the West, Sun Wukong aka the Stone Monkey is protector of the monk Xuanzang, who travels from India to China bearing the sacred scrolls to the Buddha. Sun is able to lift mountains, leap across seas, and transform into different shapes; he's also too smart for his own good and gets into a lot of trouble until Xuanzang comes along and forces him to behave, which some Buddhists interpret as a metaphor for the mind controlling its own excesses and the body's appetites.
(It also explains why you'll see the monkey used in martial arts as a symbol of fighting prowess, e.g. the 1993 kung fu film Iron Monkey, which I'll argue is one of the best fighting flicks to come out of Hong Kong.)
In Japanese folklore the monkey is often portrayed as selfish and mischievous. They're good at thinking of brilliant schemes to get what they want but are too impulsive to think things through. As a result, they usually come to a bad end.
The Chinese horoscope usually ascribes those same values to people born in the year of the Monkey: smart, loyal, brave and capable of great deeds, but has a tendency towards impulsiveness. If they don't get quick results, they get discouraged rather quickly. They also sulk a lot, but they can't resist a good party and pull out of it pretty quickly.
Am I like that? Nah.
Well, I'll allow the first part. Maybe some of the second part. But I don't sulk. Hmph.
I started thinking about this after responding to JennyExiled's comment about Obama supporters. This past week I have been verbally duking it out with various co-workers, friends and even family over the primary elections: few of us support the same candidates, which maybe should be no surprise given the size of the field. But what has surprised me is the virulence with which we disagree. Most of my girlfriends support Clinton and are "terribly disappointed" (this is a direct quote) that I support Obama. A number of my male friends and co-workers are either Libertarian or Republican, and they hammer me with arguments about why my opinions are "just plain stupid" (another direct quote). The welfare state is collapsing, they sing in chorus. (Only because your Republican president killed it.) The free market is the best way to handle the current problems we have not only with the economy but with social issues. (If you are a white male of a certain class.) You're a typical liberal/feminist/affirmative action "minority," you have no appreciation for what this country has given you. (Yo' mama.)
It doesn't help that I have a mouth as big as my opinions, and when I'm tired I tend to snap at whoever's unlucky enough to be near me. I also haven't learned to just say, "Enough" or "No" when the person I'm with starts getting on my nerves. Instead I let them spout off until I'm ready to tear their eyeballs out, and then "Flame On!" as Johnny Storm used to say in the Fantastic Four. The other person often doesn't have a clue as to what set me off. "She seemed so calm at first, and then BAM!" Which I realize is a terrible way to communicate and probably makes me a candidate for an anger management program, 'cept all of my bashing is mostly verbal. Which still doesn't hurt feelings any less than say, a baseball bat.
Anyway, I think I finally hit bottom on Monday night before the caucuses. I was attending a training session for those who might be interested in attending the caucus and becoming a delegate to the state and possibly the national convention, when I ran into a friend from work. He's a Libertarian who supports the freedom to bear arms (after the Virginia Tech shootings he suggested that college staff and faculty be allowed to bring guns to work), believes God wouldn't have made animals if he wanted us to be vegetarian, and feels we would all be happier if government was indeed drowned in the bathtub. He's also a Ron Paul supporter, and since the beginning of the primaries, he won't shut up about what I think is a Republican also-ran. He collars anyone unlucky enough to run into him in the lunchroom and forces them to listen to his "You gotta be crazy not to vote for Ron Paul!" speech. I've avoided him as much as one can in a fairly large circle-shaped building, but there at the training session I had no way of escaping. "They're having a rally for Ron Paul at the U tonight!" he enthused. "You gotta see this guy!"
No no no. I have to wash my hair tonight. I need to go home and feed my cat. You're a married man, for gods' sake, ask your wife to come with you. (As luck would have it, his wife is a Clinton supporter. I'm surprised they're still together. Or maybe they aren't.) Looking back, his insistence bordered on harassment, but I had gotten so used to his "enthusiasm" that I just passed it off as that. I finally agreed to go to the rally provided he bought me a slice of pizza from a nearby pizzeria and I be allowed to express my opinions freely. He snickered and said, "Sure!" At which I should have backed out right away. But my defenses were down---I was already excited about the caucuses and was actually feeling a little smug myself: "Ha, Ron Paul supporter! I'll take you down a peg or three."
So we went. It was awful. We were the oldest people there, I think---everyone else was in their early 20s, all college students, mostly male, mostly white and preppie. I was baffled by why these kids (to me anyway they were all kids ) supported such an anti-government viewpoint: maybe they had forgotten the civil rights movement and Johnson's War on Poverty campaign; maybe it was because they were focused on one aspect of Paul's platform, his opposition to the Iraq war; maybe they were just enormously privileged and saw themselves as immortal, unbreakable? No one thinks Social Security or welfare is any good until s/he's disabled or loses a spouse: then when those checks start coming in every month, you thank FDR for creating the system.
But I sat through the speech. I didn't cheer, but I didn't make obscene catcalls either. (Drat.) I mostly went into my low-blood-sugar trance and stared at this skinny old guy in a suit and all these kids jumping up and down and screaming. Wow, I sure could use that pizza now. I wonder if I'll have time to really wash my hair after this.
When it was over my friend leaned towards me and said, so what do you think? Isn't he great?
Baaaad question when I'm hungry and tired. I replied, you tell me---what's the difference between him and bin Laden?
What? he said.
I mean, Paul is essentially trying to destroy the federal government. He wants to dismantle it after he and the other Republicans bankrupt it. Then I wound up for the pitch: That guy oughta be in Guantanamo. They should indict him for plotting to destroy the United States government.
I could tell then this guy wasn't my friend anymore, and I wasn't going to get any pizza. I'd be lucky if I got a ride home tonight. (Hmm, do I have enough money for a cab? Or can I catch a bus that'll take me straight to downtown St. Paul?) But he did drop me off---more like throw me off, but I jumped to the sidewalk in time. And then he tried to drive off as fast as you can in a fresh snowfall, which is to say, he fishtailed and ended up rolling turtle-like down the street.
I was mad, mostly at myself for agreeing to go to the rally in the first place. But I was flummoxed by this so-called friend's arrogance. Did he really think I was going to be converted by one speech? Did he really have that little respect for me or my views?
Then today he came to my office and apologized. He had been wrong to push me into going to the rally. Yes, he had been arrogant. Would I forgive him?
I thought, you're just doing this now because you're scared I'm going to complain to HR about your behavior. Or someone in your department told you to apologize. But he looked genuinely sorry, in sort of a Woody Allen sad-sack way.
I told him I could forgive but never forget. And I didn't want to see him in my office again. Not with the Ron Paul button on his shirt, anyway.
Maybe I should have apologized to him for spouting off myself.
Nah. At some point, you gotta close the gates and hold the fort.
I did the right thing last night and attended the DFL caucus (that's Democratic Farmer Labor, which is Minnesotan for Democratic Party).
(I don't want to get into it here, but Minnesota has its own regional vocabulary, which took me a long time to get used to: "hot dish" for casserole, "rubber binder" for rubber band, "pop" for carbonated soft drink, "suit coat" for sports jacket. There are other terms that have fallen by the wayside as more outsiders like me move in and force the locals to speak more like the mainstream, but it's made me realize how disunited the United States often is in terms of culture and language.)
This is only the second time I've attended the state caucuses in the 27 years I've lived here, and I'm not apologetic about it. The caucus system is a big fat pain in the butt: time-consuming, elitist, and created with the intent to keep the nomination process in the hands of the central party rather than the average voters. Normally the only people who attend it are the party activists, the people who actually make a career of party politics, or those with a very focused agenda (e.g. abortion or the war), or people with more time than common sense. The last two groups were often responsible for making caucus meetings run for hours, so the state party finally put a time limit on how long the caucuses can meet. Most people however don't want to sit through an hour of hashing out the party platform, or hearing special interest groups announce their presence and declare they are "uncommitted," which is one of the bizarre parts of the caucus system. You can come to the caucus and not choose any of the candidates. Instead you can present a resolution and insist that you want delegates who are committed to say, a pro-life position only, and will only nominate at the national convention a candidate committed to that position. Which begs the question: why would you come to the caucus if you weren't going to vote for a candidate? Party traditionalists say it's part of the democratic process, but to me it's special interests holding the caucus and all of its attendees hostage. As much as I am against the war, I don't want to hold a debate about it on primary night. I want to vote for my candidate and go home.
I also have to wonder why the caucuses are held on a weeknight within such a tight time frame. They begin at 6:30 p.m. and are open until 8 p.m. for the straw vote. These hours essentially keep anyone working evenings or who can't get to the meeting site before 8:00 from attending or voting. Last night, there were unprecedented numbers of people participating in the party caucuses, and the DFL was caught unprepared. The rooms at most caucus sites were too small to hold all of the attendees; some places ran out of ballots; lines were so long that people were still waiting at closing time, and even though the state chair says he ordered caucus judges to accept votes from anyone who was still in line at 8:00, a number of voters complained they were turned away. At a couple of places there were traffic jams and cops had to be called in to direct cars coming in and out of the parking lots. In my own case, I decided to drive rather than walk because I wasn't sure how late I'd be out. (Downtown St. Paul is relatively safe, though some might even say it's a ghost town after 6 p.m. But with my crappy eyesight and the refusal of some businesses to clear the sidewalks of snow and ice or at least put a little salt down, I wasn't going to risk a broken limb for the sake of democracy.) Normally the area around Galtier Plaza where our caucus was held has parking galore after dark, but that night there wasn't a space to be had for three square blocks, and I was beginning to wonder if it was worth the gas to vote. Finally I broke down and parked my car in a garage, for which I was charged $4. The DFL owes me. Or can I write this off on my taxes?
Oddly, the straw vote is unsecured, without privacy, and may not necessarily hold the delegates to your candidate. The ballot was a little piece of paper that I marked at a table in front of two DFL volunteers and two guys standing alongside me. I then threw my ballot into an open cardboard box---it wasn't even the traditional sealed box with the mailbox slot. The guy at the far end of the table said to the volunteer watching him vote, "How do I know you won't tamper with the ballots?" "Well, if you don't trust me, don't vote," snapped the volunteer. "You think I'm corrupt?"
(Oh good, this inspires trust in the system. Nothing like professional behavior in an election judge to get us to turn out to vote.)
But it was ultimately about the candidates, and I admit I was happy to see the turnout. One thing that was notable at my particular caucus was the number of people of color there. I've always been bothered by the fact that the people at caucuses tend to be overwhelmingly white, late middle age, and upper middle class. Tuesday night half the room was filled with African American, Asian, Latino and very young voters. (Some people brought their kids, which I thought was interesting---one frequent complaint by parents is that they have to hire sitters in order to attend the caucuses.)
The other unusual feature is that people looked engaged and happy. Caucuses are not only tedious but tend to attract humorless people. They were still there last night---but right in line with them were these laughing, joking voters. Since most of us had never done this before or had never been to that particular meeting site, a group of us got lost and were wandering around the building. One woman grumbled loudly that the DFL had hidden the whereabouts of the room and she was thoroughly lost; I said to her, "Well I'm just following you!" She laughed and said "Ha! If we ever find this place, we can vote for each other." We both cracked up at this. But I hadn't done this at the last caucus I attended---I doubt if there was a single smiling face back then.
Maybe that's what's really different about this election: We were all excited to be there. I think we were all a little conscious that we were at a historic moment, and no matter who got the nomination in August, we were all going to be there for a sea change.
Oh, and the results? At 2:00 p.m. 135,161 votes for Obama; 64,558 for Clinton; 1,228 uncommitted.
(Source: http://www.channel4000.com/elections/15199012/detail.html )
I might go again if you twisted my arm a little.
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